Poor but Blessed ~ An Irish Memory (Author Unknown)

(Post originally published February 8, 2012)

We met and we married a long time ago,
We worked for long hours when wages were low,
No TV, no wireless, no bath, times were hard.
Just a cold water tap and a walk in the yard.
No holidays abroad, no carpets on floors.
We had coal on the fire and we didn't lock doors;
Our children arrived, no Pill in those days;
And we brought them up without any state aid.
They were safe going out and played in the park,
And old folk could go for a walk in the dark.
No Valium, no drugs and no LSD.
We cured most of our ills with a good cup of tea.
No vandals, no muggings, there was nothing to rob;
We felt we were rich with a couple of bob.
People were happier in those far off days,
Kinder and caring in so many ways.
Milkmen and paperboy would whistle and sing.
A night at the pictures was our one mad fling.
We all get our share of troubles and strife.
We just have to face it ~ that's the pattern of life.
Now, I'm alone, I look back through the years.
I don't think of the bad times, the troubles and tears.
I remember the blessings: our home and our love,
And that we shared them together, I thank God above.

***

 

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The Emperor and the Seed - by Al Cunningham

  A Short Story by Al Cunningham



An Emperor in the Far East was growing old and knew it was time to choose his successor. Instead of choosing one of his assistants or his children, he decided on something different.

He called the young people of the empire together one day. He said, “It is time for me to step down and choose the next Emperor. I have decided to choose one of you!”

The children were shocked, but the Emperor continued, “I am going to give each one of you a seed today. One very special seed. I want you to plant the seed, water it and come back here after one year from today, with what you have grown from this one seed. I will then judge the plants that you bring, and the one I choose will be the next Emperor.”

One boy, named Ling, was there that day and he, like the others, received a seed. He went home and excitedly told his mother the story. She helped him get a pot and planting soil, and he planted the seed and watered it carefully.

Everyday he would water it and watch to see if it had grown. After about three weeks, some of the other youths began to talk about their seeds and the plants that were beginning to grow. Ling kept checking his seed, but nothing ever grew. Three weeks … four weeks … five weeks went by. Still nothing. By now, others were talking about their plants, but Ling didn't have a plant, and he felt like a failure. Six months went by, still nothing in Ling's pot. He just knew he had killed his seed.
Everyone else had trees and tall plants, but he had nothing. Ling didn't say anything to his friends, however, he just kept waiting for his seed to grow.

A year finally went by and all the youths of the Empire brought their plants to the Emperor for inspection. Ling told his mother that he wasn't going to take an empty pot. To be honest, Ling felt sick to his stomach, but he knew his mother was right when she told him to take it to the Emperor. Reluctantly, Ling took his pot to the palace.

When Ling arrived, he was amazed at the variety of plants grown by the other youths. They were beautiful, in all shapes and sizes. Ling put his empty pot on the floor and many of the other kids laughed at him. A few felt sorry for him and just said, “Hey, nice try!” When the Emperor arrived, he surveyed the room and greeted the young people. Ling just tried to hide at the back. “What great plants, trees and flowers you have grown,” said the Emperor, “today, one of you will be appointed the next Emperor.”

All of a sudden, the Emperor spotted Ling at the back of the room with his empty pot. He ordered his guards to bring him to the front. Ling was terrified. “The Emperor knows I'm a failure! Maybe he will have me killed!” When Ling got to the front, the Emperor asked his name. “My name is Ling,” he replied. All the kids were laughing and making fun of him. The Emperor asked everyone to quiet down. He looked at Ling, and then announced to the crowd: “Behold your new Emperor! His name is Ling!”

Ling couldn't believe it. Ling couldn't even grow his seed. How could he be the new Emperor?

Then the Emperor said: “One year ago today, I gave everyone here a seed. I told you to take the seed, plant it, water it and bring it back to me today. But I gave you all boiled seeds, which would not grow. All of you, except Ling, have brought me trees and plants and flowers. When you found that the seed would not grow, you substituted another seed for the one I gave you. Ling was the only one with the courage and the honesty to bring me a pot with my seed in it. Therefore, he is the one who will be the new Emperor. If you plant goodness, you will reap friends. If you plant perseverance, you will reap victory. If you plant hard work, you will reap success. If you plant forgiveness, you will reap reconciliation. If you plant openness, you will reap intimacy. If you plant patience, you will reap improvements. But, if you plant dishonesty, you will reap distrust. If you plant selfishness, you will reap loneliness. If you plant laziness, you will reap stagnation. If you plant greed, you will reap loss. If you plant gossip, you will reap enemies. If you plant worries, you will reap wrinkles. So, be careful what you plant now. It will determine what you will reap tomorrow. The seeds you now scatter will make life worse or better. Yes, someday, you will enjoy the fruits, or you will pay for the choices you plant today.”

***

 

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The Rich Man's Son - A Christmas Story (Author Unknown)

(Post originally published December 11, 2011)

 

(Image: "Xmas Greetings 7th Division 1917...")

Once upon a time not so long ago, there was a very wealthy man who, with his devoted young son, shared a passion for art collecting. Together they travelled around the world, adding only the finest art treasures to their collection. Priceless works by Picasso, Van Gogh, Monet and many others adorned the walls of the rambling family estate. The widowed elder man looked on with satisfaction as his only child became an experienced art collector and shared the same tastes as he. The son’s trained eye and sharp business mind caused his father to beam with pride as they dealt with art collectors around the world.

As winter approached, war engulfed the nation, and the young man left to serve his country. After only a few short weeks, his father received a telegram. His beloved son was missing in action. The art collector anxiously awaited more news, fearing he would never see his son again. Within days, his fears were confirmed. The young man had died while rushing a fellow soldier to a medic. Distraught and lonely, the old man faced the upcoming Christmas holidays with anguish and sadness. The joy of the season – a season that he and his son had so looked forward to – would visit his house no longer.

On Christmas morning, a knock on the door awakened the depressed old man. As he walked to the door, the masterpieces of art on the walls only reminded him that his son was not coming home. As he opened the door, he was greeted by a soldier with a large package in his hand. He introduced himself to the man by saying, “I was a friend of your son. I was the one he was rescuing when he died. May I come in for a few moments? I have something to show you.”

As they talked, the solider explained how the man’s son had told everyone about him, not to mention his love of fine art. “I’m an artist, well, an amateur of art,” said the soldier, “and I wanted to give you this.” As the old man unwrapped the package, the paper gave way to reveal a portrait of the man’s son. Though the world would never consider it the work of a genius, the painting featured the young man’s face in striking detail.

Overcome with emotion, the man thanked the soldier, promising to hang the picture above the fireplace.

A few hours later, after the soldier had departed, the old man set about his task. True to his word, the painting went above the fireplace, pushing aside thousands of dollars of paintings. And then the man sat in his chair and spent Christmas gazing at the gift he had been given.

During the days and weeks that followed, the man realized that even though his son was no longer with him, the boy’s life would live on because of those he had touched. He would soon learn from dozens of letters sent to him from other soldiers that his son had rescued them too before a bullet stilled his caring heart. As the stories of his son’s gallantry continued to reach him, fatherly pride and satisfaction began to ease the grief. The painting of his son soon became his most prized possession, far eclipsing any interest in the pieces for which museums around the world clamoured.

He told his neighbours it was the greatest gift he had ever received.

The following spring, the old man became ill and passed away. The art world was in anticipation. With the collector’s passing, and his only son dead, it was announced that all those paintings would be sold at an auction. According to the will of the old man, all of the art works would be auctioned on Christmas day, the day he had received his greatest gift. The day soon arrived and art collectors from around the world gathered to bid on some of the world’s most spectacular paintings. Dreams would be fulfilled this day; greatness would be achieved as many would claim “I have the greatest collection.”

The auction began with a painting that was not on any museum’s list. It was the painting of the man’s son.

The auctioneer asked for an opening bid. The room was silent. “Who will open the bidding with $100?” he asked.

Minutes passed. No one spoke. From the back of the room came, “Who cares about that painting? It’s just a picture of his son. Let’s forget it and go on to the good stuff.” More voices echoed in agreement. “No, we have to begin with this one first, the man's last request was explicit,” replied the auctioneer. “Now, who will take the son?”

Finally, a close friend of the old man spoke.

“Will you take ten dollars for the painting? That’s all I have. I knew the boy, so I’d like to have it.” “I have ten dollars. Will anyone go higher?” called the auctioneer. After another period of impatient silence, the auctioneer said, “Going once, going twice. Gone.” The gavel fell. Cheers filled the room and someone exclaimed, “Now we can get on with it and we can bid on these treasures!”

The auctioneer looked at the audience and announced the auction was over.
Stunned disbelief quickly struck the would-be art buyers. Someone spoke up and asked, “What do you mean it’s over? We didn’t come here for a picture of some old guy’s son! What about all of these paintings? There are millions of dollars of art here! It was announced the whole collection was up for auction! I demand that you explain the meaning of this!”

The auctioneer replied, “It’s very simple. According to the will of the father, whoever could appreciate his greatest treasure, although it seemed small and insignificant to the eyes of the world, would be considered worthy to receive the rest. Therefore, whoever takes the son...gets it all.”

This story puts things into perspective, doesn’t it? Just as those art collectors discovered on that Christmas day, the message is still the same – the love of a Father – a Father whose greatest joy came from His Son who went away and gave His life rescuing others. And because of that Father’s love...whoever receieves the Son receives all. You don't have to be rich, just give Him your 'all' with an open heart.

Dear friends, this story illustrated the love of our Father in Heaven, our God, for us. He sacrificed His beloved Son and whosoever would believe in Him will not perish but have everlasting life. The is the greatest gift of love to each one of us, and the beautiful part is, we don't have to wait until Christmas to receive Him.

***

 

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